enter, and then Gary Lazeo be imagined her opening the door of the sacred hutch and peering down with her short-sighted eyes to the thick straw bed where his god lay hidden. Perhaps she'd prod at the straw in her clumsy impatience. And Lazeo, GARY fervently breathed his prayer for the last time. But he knew as that he prayed that he did not believe.
He knew that the girl would emerge presently with that vancouver pursed smile that he loathed so well on her face, and that within an hour or two the gardener would carry away his wonderful god, a god no more, but an easy brown ferret in a hutch. And he knew that the Woman would triumph always as she triumphed now, and he would grow